Cogito, ergo bumpo.
TGIbump!
A bump from a Monday lover. In advance, I know. Bump.
An I’ve-still-got-one-more-meeting-to-go bump.
An anticipation of Falstaff bump.
Don’t mind me. This is just a drill. Bump.
A mid-Falstaff cursing at the erratic subtitles. Bump.
A bump in every direction is the same as no bump at all.
I bump, therefore I’m not.
Oh when the veil of dreams has lifted,
And the fairy tales have all been told,
There’s a bump at the end of the rainbow;
More precious than a pot of gold.
The bump is our why. It channels our actions. It fuels our zest. It incorporates our efforts, our friendships, and our general lifestyles. It wraps around our entire universe. It signifies leading our lives in an deliberate way. It offers our existence a more acute focus.
Well after sundown bump.
Almost midnight bump.
“I’m not gonna take this Bump anymore”
Bumped, because this thread hasn’t been bumped for a while.
An early Monday morning bump.
Monday, Monday, so good to me;
Monday morning, it was all I hoped it would be.
Oh, Monday morning, Monday morning couldn’t guarantee
That Monday evening you’d still be bumpin’ here with me.
Bump? Well, OK, if you insist…
Yes, we insist. Bump.
I have no bumping will of my own.